It was then, when he realized that if something was wrong he’d have to be careful, that he thought of what he could do.
“He seems to be having trouble breathing,” he said to Cortland. “I think we should raise him up a little.”
Cortland looked puzzled but, gathering that Andrew had some reason for it, said, “All right.”
“You take that side, and I’ll take this,” said Andrew, going to the side away from where the speaking tube was. Bending down as if he were about to lift the old man, he whispered in his ear, “Blink once for yes, twice for no. Can you hear me?”
The old man blinked once.
“Were you trying to send us a message?”
One blink. Yes.
“Do you need help?”
One blink. Yes.
What form should that help take? How could he phrase the question so that it could be answered with a yes or no? He’d have to take a chance on it.
“Do you want us to get you away from here?”
As the old man again blinked once for yes, there were footsteps on the stairs, and Andrew only had time enough to straighten up and step back away from the bed when the door opened and Dr. Thurlow came in, followed by Cortland’s stepmother.
“What are you doing in here, Benedict?” she asked severely.
“I wanted to see how Grandfather was, and since I’d been talking about him to Tillett, I thought I’d bring him in with me to meet him.”
“You should know he’s not well enough for that,” said the doctor reasonably. “We don’t mind your coming in. As we told you, we think that’s a very good idea. I gather your grandfather is fonder of you than he is of anyone else, and it’s good for him to see you and know that you’re concerned about him. But I don’t think you should bring anyone else in.”
“I should have known better,” said Andrew. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Cortland.
“Yes, it was. I think I’d better run along. Goodbye, Mrs. Cortland. Goodbye, doctor. Perhaps we can spend another afternoon together one of these days, Cortland.”
“That would be very nice,” said Cortland. And it was clear from his looks as well as the way he said it that he wasn’t sure whether Andrew meant it or not.
“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” asked Wyatt.
It was about an hour later, and Andrew had just finished his account of what had happened.
“I don’t know. You told me to try to see Cortland again, and I did, and it’s obvious that something is wrong there—very wrong!”
“Am I supposed to take your word for that?”
“Are you saying you don’t believe what I told you?”
“No. I think you’re telling me the truth about what you believe happened. I’m just wondering if there may not be some other explanation for it.”
“What, for instance?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to take a walk with me while I think about it?”
“Where are you going?”
“To the Strand.”
“The theatre?”
“Near there. If you want, you can go on, watch some of the rehearsal and go home with your mother and Sara.”
“All right. I’ll walk with you anyway.”
They went out the rear entrance of the Yard, past the Foreign Office and along Whitehall to the Strand. They were about a half-block from the theatre when Sergeant Tucker came out of Bedford Street, nodded to Andrew and saluted Wyatt.
“Anything?” asked Wyatt. He sighed when Tucker shook his head. “There are days when you just can’t make tuppence,” he said. Then, turning to Andrew, “I’m sorry. There’s something else I have to take care of right now. But I think that what you told me warrants looking into, and we’ll do that tomorrow.”
What does a policeman mean when he says there’s something he has to take care of? Clearly Wyatt and Tucker were on a case and one that had something to do with this part of London, since they both seemed to be spending a good deal of time here.
But the Cortlands—young Cortland and his grandfather—were much more on Andrew’s mind as he walked up the Strand than Wyatt’s case, whatever it was. Which brought up the question of how much he should tell Sara of what had been happening.
It was something that had never arisen before. Whenever they had become involved in anything, they had both been in it and each of them knew everything the other knew. But with Sara in the play, everything was different. However, Andrew could not help feeling that there was so much to the Cortland case that he’d better let her know about it because he had a feeling that before it was all over she might have to become involved, too.
And so, sitting in the back of the darkened theatre with her while the director rehearsed one of the many scenes in which she did not appear, he did tell her. He had already mentioned Cortland to her, told her that they had come down from school together. That Cortland had seemed worried and upset and that he’d probably see him sometime during the holidays. Now he told her what had happened that afternoon and what Wyatt had said.
She was silent for several moments when he had finished. Silent for so long, in fact, that he finally asked her what she was thinking about.
“I don’t know if you can call it thinking,” she said. “I was wondering if I’m not a little sorry that I’m in the play. Because, if I wasn’t, I’d be in this other thing with you.”
“The play’s much more important,” he said.
“It is to me. But in other ways, this other thing could be much more important. Of course, it sounds as if you’ve got Peter interested in it now—and you couldn’t have anyone better than that.”
“What about you?” he said, smiling.
“Don’t joke about it. I’m serious. But will you keep on letting me know what happens? Not only because I want to know, but because—if there’s anything I can do—I’d like to do it.”
“Of course I’ll let you know.”
“Starting with tomorrow?”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Didn’t Peter say he was really going to look into the whole thing tomorrow?”
“Yes, he did. And I’ll tell you everything that happens, everything we find out, if we do find out anything.”
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About the Author
Born in New York City, Robert Newman (1909–1988) was among the pioneers of early radio and was chief writer for the Inner Sanctum Mysteries and Murder at Midnight—forerunners of The Twilight Zone that remain cult favorites to this day. In 1944 Newman was put in charge of the radio campaign to reelect Franklin D. Roosevelt. He was also one of the founding members of the Radio Writers Guild, which became the Writers Guild of America.
In 1973 Newman began writing books for children, most notably the Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt mysteries. The series takes place in Victorian London and follows the adventures of two teenage amateur detectives who begin as Baker Street Irregulars. Newman has also written books of fantasy, among them Merlin’s Mistake and The Testing of Tertius. His books based on myths and folklore include Grettir the Strong, and he has published two adult novels.
Newman was married to the writer Dorothy Crayder. Their daughter, Hila Feil, has also published novels for children and young adults. Newman lived his last days in Stonington, Connecticut.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author᾿s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1983 by Robert Newman
Cover design by Jason Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-497
6-8686-1
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10014
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ANDREW TILLET, SARA WIGGINS & INSPECTOR WYATT EBOOKS
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The Case of the Etruscan Treasure (Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt Book 5) Page 15
